Niger

received the lion alarm somewhat sceptically.
Shortly afterwards he saw his first giraffe. It
trotted away sluggishly, turning a tall neck to
observe if the Scot and his guides were in pursuit.
Mungo’s horse would have had difficulty in pur¬
suing a tortoise. Presently the forest thinned, and
they came on an open waste dotted with ragged
bushes. Suddenly the guide called out in alarm—
c A very large lion ! ’—and gestured to Mungo to
turn and ride back.
Mungo knew better. His horse was incapable of
flight, and probably the guide had been mistaken.
He rode slowly forward. The guide had not been
mistaken. At his next ejaculation ofc God preserve
us ! ’ Mungo raised his head and saw a great lion
squatting by a bush, regardant, his head on his
paws, his eyes surveying the travellers with a mild
disinterest.
Mungo felt his heart beat painfully. He pulled
his feet from the stirrups in order to throw himself
on the ground when the beast sprang. The horse
moved slowly forward. The lion watched them go
by. Mungo heaved a sigh, and refrained with an
effort from imputing a minor miracle to the Al¬
mighty.
They left the woods and took to a swampy track.
Lions were seldom found in swamps. Sunset
brought them to the village of Modiboo, ‘ a delight¬
ful village on the banks of the Niger ’ it seemed to
Mungo at first sight. Here the Great River flowed
wide and majestic, gathering its waters from many
183